


Inside Out

by alwayseven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Bondage, M/M, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2012-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwayseven/pseuds/alwayseven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for blindfold_spn and the prompt: <i>Doesn't matter who tops or bottoms in this -- I just want crazy-hot lap sex. There can never be enough lap sex! The guy who tops from the bottom should be tied up to the bed, while the bottom rides him to the brink and back again. Dirty talk is always welcome. I wouldn't mind schmoop, either.</i></p>
    </blockquote>





	Inside Out

**Author's Note:**

> Written for blindfold_spn and the prompt: _Doesn't matter who tops or bottoms in this -- I just want crazy-hot lap sex. There can never be enough lap sex! The guy who tops from the bottom should be tied up to the bed, while the bottom rides him to the brink and back again. Dirty talk is always welcome. I wouldn't mind schmoop, either._

After nearly twenty-three years, Sam still hasn’t learned to keep his mouth shut where Dean is concerned. This is his own damn fault, he gets that, but it would be nice if Dean would stop looking so fucking _smug_. 

“What’s with the bitch face, Sammy?” Dean says low and a little breathless, despite the smirk on his face and the effort at looking like he’s not seconds from coming all over himself. “I thought you were into a little kinky business, wasn’t this what you wanted?” 

Sam’s got his teeth in his bottom lip to keep from saying anything and giving Dean any more reason to look so fucking pleased with himself. He focuses on the ache in his shoulders, the way the leather of Dean’s worn belt digs into the thin skin of his wrists, anything but how completely, painfully hard he is and and how much he’d like to throw Dean to the floor and fuck him stupid. 

Sam should have known when he opened his mouth and mentioned he might be interested in a little light bondage that Dean would turn it around on him. Not that Sam’s against being held down, the ache in his shoulders is especially nice, but Dean’s taking his sweet time getting his ass on Sam’s dick and Sam really doesn’t have much patience left in him. 

They don’t usually do it like this and Dean’s clearly struggling, sweat beading at his hairline and a flush spreading down his throat, across his chest, nipples hard, belly taut. Usually Dean gets a couple of Sam’s fingers in him until he’s arching up and begging with his body if not with words before Sam flips him to his stomach to slide in from behind or pushes Dean’s knees to his ears and fucks him bent in half. Like this, without anything more than lube, Sam can see the way the muscles in Dean’s thighs go taut, quivering as he tries to work himself down on Sam’s dick, slow enough that Sam’s convinced he’s going to come just like this, with just the head of his dick poking at Dean’s hole. 

Dean has his palms braced flat on Sam’s chest, his arms shaking a little as he pushes himself up to change the angle, trying to work himself down. “Jesus, Sammy,” he whispers, head falling back, throat bared, mouth parted as he pulls in quick, shallow breaths. “You’re so fucking hard,” he mumbles, words falling out like he’s not even aware of them, which is possible given how strained his body is, strung tight, his own cock dark, curved up against his belly, beading wet at the head. 

Sam can’t _breathe_ , he’s so hard, he feels everything caught in his chest, the sight of Dean, so fucking determined despite the struggle to take Sam like this, how much he clearly loves this, all of it, the stretch and the pain it brings with it, turning things around and being in control for once. And because of that Sam loves it and does his best to keep from thrusting up, to give Dean the chance to set the pace. 

“Dean,” Sam tries to say, his voice rough, caught in his throat, reverent with it. 

Dean shudders, shaking but he doesn’t look at Sam, doesn’t open his eyes despite the way his body reacts to Sam’s voice, to his name on Sam’s tongue. 

“Almost there, Sammy,” he mumbles, almost deliriously, his fingers curling against Sam’s bare chest as if looking for something to anchor himself, hold onto. Sam digs his fingernails into his palms to have something to focus on because it’s beyond comprehension how fucking _tight_ Dean is like this, like they haven’t been fucking regularly for the last four months. Like this it’s like the first time all over again, when they were bruised and bleeding, frantic and high on adrenaline, both of them panting as Sam worked him open on one, two, three fingers before getting Dean on his front and slowly, so fucking slowly, got his dick buried deep. That was the last time they went anything like slow, as slow as anything ever gets with the two of them. 

But now, Dean’s like a vice, searing hot and gripping the head of Sam’s dick as he struggles to take it. And Sam loves it so much he doesn’t care that Dean’s going to give him shit for weeks when he comes in the next minute. 

Finally, fucking finally Dean starts to relax, opening up for Sam and the slide gets a little easier, still slow like pulling teeth, but easier. He stops, panting, gasping, a raw sound caught somewhere in his throat as he holds himself on his shaking knees, arms straining to support him. 

“Jesus, that’s deep,” Dean pants, head falling forward, chin to chest, sweat-damp hair matted to his forehead. “Fucking all the way in me, Sam, fuck,” Dean babbles, holding himself completely still even as his cock drips pre-come everywhere and Sam can tell how much trouble it’s causing Dean to keep control, to keep from grabbing his dick and coming all over Sam. 

Sam feels like he might die from the feeling of Dean around him, the heat inside him, how fucking _tight_ he is. It’s excruciating, really, the pleasure and the need to come and now. Like this he swears he can feel every breath Dean takes, his body tightening impossibly around Sam’s dick. Dean still isn’t moving and Sam would call him a fucking tease if it wasn’t so painfully obvious how close to coming Dean is, that it’s all he can do to keep still. 

Sam’s used to getting his hands on Dean, pressing his shoulders into the mattress, gripping his thighs, kissing bruises into Dean’s flesh. This is nothing like anything they’ve ever done and Sam’s going to be jerking off to this for a long fucking time. 

It’s forever it feels like but Dean starts to move, leverages himself on his knees and lifts up, a slick, tight glide that drags a groan out of Sam and then Dean’s sinking back down again, resting with Sam’s dick completely buried in him and making ridiculous, intoxicating sounds and breathing like he’s in pain. 

Sam shifts then, just to stretch his thighs, change the angle slightly and Dean hisses, grabbing blindly at Sam. 

“Sam,” Dean breathes, shoulders hunching and body shaking. 

“Yeah?” Sam mumbles and does it again, just shifts his hips, angle changing and Dean bites down hard on his lip and rocks just slightly, working himself on Sam. 

Dean’s mostly adjusted and he starts moving, hips circling in a rhythm that would make Sam blush if he wasn’t completely on fire. There’s no way Dean should know how to move like this but thank fuck that he does. 

Sam feels his orgasm coming and fast. “Dean,” Sam says, a low warning that doesn’t seem to penetrate. 

Dean just shakes his head, groans “shit, shit,” as he rocks himself mindlessly on Sam. 

“Dean, fuck, get off,” Sam pants, arching up and wincing as the muscles in his shoulders scream with protest. He’s not wearing a condom, damn it. They’ve never done this without a condom and Sam gives himself a generous ten seconds before he completely loses it. 

But Dean’s not paying attention, he’s completely gone, shuddering and rocking and panting like he’s oblivious to anything but Sam in him. 

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam tries again, sharp and a little panicky but it’s too fucking late and he closes his eyes as he comes harder than he ever has, his whole body straining into it. He’s never come like this, bare in anyone, and the feeling of it is _intense_ , hot and god, a little addicting. 

It takes him minutes to come back to himself and realize that he’s still hard as Dean slowly lifts himself up, pulling off. His eyes open, something finally cutting through the delirium. “Fuck, Sam, I can feel you,” he babbles, eyes wide like he’s just now realizing what they did, that he let his younger brother fuck him raw. 

Sam wants to see, he realizes with a sick, sudden twist of heat inside him. He wants to know what Dean looks like with his come in him. Maybe later he’ll feel some shame, some embarrassment but now he can’t think past the desire to get his fingers in Dean, touch him from the inside and feel how slick and wet Dean must be now. 

Dean’s holding himself over Sam’s chest, his palms braced against the headboard, fingers curled next to Sam’s own. Sam looks up at him, confused for a moment. Dean’s got his eyes closed again like he’s trying to keep himself together. And like that, Sam gets it, what Dean’s waiting for. 

“Okay, Dean,” Sam whispers, his mouth dry, aching a little. “Yeah, go on,” he urges, his tongue sweeping across his lips like he can cure his drymouth. 

Dean’s eyes fly open and he looks unsure, like he doesn’t know that he heard Sam right.  
Sam can’t speak so lets his mouth fall open, tilts his face up and hopes that Dean gets the message. 

He closes his eyes as the first wave lands on his cheek, warm, another on the corner of his mouth. He pushes his chin up, parts his lips a little more and then there’s come on his tongue, the back of his throat as Dean shudders above him, finger wrapping around Sam’s wrist as he comes. 


End file.
